


Loveseat

by Mogseltof



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Gender Fuckery, Human AU, Humanformers, Light Dom/sub, Manhandling, Modern AU, Multi, One Shot, PWP, Penis In Vagina Sex, Platonic Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, ish, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof
Summary: Sometimes history with your oldest and bestest friends means shit gets awkward or you feel like a third wheel in your own damn home. Sometimes though? Sometimes it means they gang up on you in your kitchen andwreckyou and that's just the best thingever.
Relationships: Arcee/Hot Rod/Springer (Transformers), Arcee/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Arcee/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Springer, Arcee/Springer (Transformers), Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Springer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Loveseat

The front door shuts with a click, Arcee looking over at her in the morning light filtering through Rodimus’s kitchen. She looks like she’s smiling, but Rodimus can’t read her expression. “Oh honey,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You’re definitely still _ours.”_

She steps forward, right into her personal space, and Rodimus steps back only to bump into Springer’s chest. His fingers grip her hips lightly and Rodimus’s skin prickles as Arcee crowds close, acutely aware of how low her sweatpants are hanging on her hips. Arcee slides a hand down the front of Rodimus’s sweatpants and just. Cups her, and _fuck,_ okay, that shouldn’t be hot, but it really is, especially with the way Arcee is looking at her like it’s a challenge. 

Arcee _grips_ her whole pubic mound and Rodimus makes a weak noise, unable to stop herself from arching back against Springer and up into the motion from Arcee’s wrist. Arcee sniggers against her skin, biting in warning. “You’re always so _fucking_ wriggly.”

“I can hold her still for you, if you want,” says Springer, an off-hand offering, and Rodimus cannot do _anything_ about the flood of heat that rushes to her head at the words in conjunction with his hands tightening on her hips. She doesn’t like being _dommed_ , _okay?_ She doesn’t like the cuffs or the orders, or the whole goddamn charade of master and slave she can’t take it seriously, though she _totally_ gets the appeal of ordering people around and snarking back, roleplay isn’t her thing, it just doesn’t butter her biscuit, but she _might_ have a thing for someone who knows how to manhandle her. Or someones.

Or say, if you really wanna get specific, Springer holding her tight and still against him so she can’t move while Arcee works her over so totally with that same look in her eyes—

Arcee’s two middle fingers press together and _slide_ in between Rodimus’s labia and Rodimus squeezes her eyes shut, breath too big for her tight throat, god, she really _does_ have to say this but _fuck_ it means interrupting the little groove they’ve got going, and what if that ruins the moment?

(The thought of the look of First Aid’s face if she shows up with vaginal tearing and a yeast infection again ruins it a little harder though, so she might just have to _suck it up.)_

“‘Cee,” she says, and swallows, hyperconscious of Arcee’s face touching hers. “‘Cee, god, not that I don’t love every single inch of this—” Arcee laughs and tightens her grip again, making a wounded noise come from Rodimus’s throat. “Bitch! I—fuck—god _damnit_ we were literally just sharing a cigarette and, and, you _know_ I’m gonna need—"

Arcee kisses her, still laughing, and she, fucking, gives Rodimus’s labia a _parting rub_ with her thumb as she pulls her hand regretfully out of Rodimus’s pants. “Lube in your bedside table?” she says, stepping back and flexing her fingers. 

“Wash your _hands_!” says Rodimus, wriggling a little to try and readjust her sweatpants as Springer’s grip doesn’t exactly _let up_ and Arcee turns away. 

“Keep her warm for me, Spring,” says Arcee laconically as she heads towards Rodimus’s bathroom, and _lord, that_ pings something in Rodimus a little too hard, sending a rush of heat straight down to her genitals, because _suddenly_ she’s thinking about Arcee pushing her down onto Springer’s dick with his warm arms holding her against his chest for Arcee to see—

“You warm enough?” asks Springer right in her ear, interrupting the train to fantasyland, and his arm snakes low around her waist to pull her tight against him and _hello_ there, it’s always nice to know a guy’s interested. 

Rodimus deliberately grinds her ass back against the warm hardness she can feel through his sleep pants and Springer groans, gripping her tight against him in a jerking motion that means she can feel the muscles in his arm tense, the hand still on her hip clenching and dislodging her sweatpants again. “Spring—” she starts to say, not even sure what she wants. 

His lips find her neck to cut her off anyway, the damn _cheater_ and she makes a wibbling noise, losing all her ability to push away, reaching up behind her to clutch at his head with her arm. His arm around her waist shoves upwards, displacing her t-shirt and leaving a warm swathe of tangling skin behind it before his calloused hand grips her entire goddamn tit and gently fucking _squeezes._

Rodimus isn’t entirely certain what noises she’s making, but he’s holding her against him and marking up her neck with a persistent focus while he just _plays_ with her, and she curls her fingers in his hair as best she can, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning into the sensation. She stumbles a little as he moves backward without letting up on his grip on her, but her couch is in that direction and that sounds _so_ good, so she does her best to get her feet under her and follow. 

Her mouth is open and she thinks little whining noises are coming out, and okay, that’s embarrassing, but Springer’s dragging her down onto the couch and pulling her shirt over her head and that’s _progress,_ so she goes along with it, tossing the fabric away to deal with later. She twists, turning, trying to get her own mouth on him, reaching for him, but he catches her and pulls her back against his too warm chest again, lying back against the couch and this time both of his hands are roving up and down her ribs and chest and she really doesn’t have the power of thought in her head to protest. 

He’s kissing down her neck and along her shoulder—the angle must be murder on him—and she can’t stop shifting, wriggling again, his trailing hands leaving goose bumps in their wake, and her sweatpants keep slipping down her hips—she goes to tug them back up again but he catches her hand with one of his and she’d protest but then his other one tugs lightly on one of her nipples and she’s too busy arching up into the feeling. 

His mouth is right up against her ear, whispering hotly, and she shuts her eyes again, biting her lip hard as she listens to him while he traces the lines of her body. “—missed you so much, god, Roddy, you’re always so hot, never wanna stop touching you—" oh _fuck,_ no, not sweet that’s her _weakness,_ “—gonna fuck you so good you can feel us for a _week,_ gonna _wreck_ you on us—"

Rodimus releases her lip with the force of her shameless cry, because that’s _also_ her weakness, and all of her muscles tense and one of Springer’s hands _finally_ pushes down her _fucking_ sweatpants, spreading his fingers as he pushes his hand around to grab an ass cheek and pull her flat against him with his forearm, growling in her ear with both arms banded tight around her body. 

Arcee laughs and Rodimus opens her eyes, blinking wildly as she turns her head, Springer’s breath hot on her neck. Arcee is pulling her shirt over her head, no bra, but still wearing the leggings she slept in, and there’s a small pile of goodies on Rodimus’s coffee table with her lube because _apparently_ the reason she took so long was because she went _exploring—_

“We are gonna have _such_ safe sex, I promise,” says Arcee as she squirts a liberal amount of lube on her fingers. 

Rodimus screws up her expression and opens her mouth to snark back that if that were the case then her latex gloves were _right_ next to the lube in the drawer, but Arcee is faster and she leads with her hand, slipping it into the space Springer created and pushing her fingers right back between Rodimus’s labia as if she’d never left. 

Rodimus yelps at the icy cold feeling of the lube, her leg kicking out, and Arcee grins, knocking it back and straddling the tangle of her and Springer’s legs just below the knees. “Don’t be such a baby,” she admonishes, taking barely a moment to find the entrance to Rodimus’s vagina and slowly pushing in with a well lubed finger. 

Rodimus whines, trying to reach up as Arcee leans in, but Springer’s got her pinned well and good over her chest and up against his shoulder, his other hand flexing in the soft swell of her ass where she’s trying to squirm against Arcee’s hand. “Attaboy,” says Arcee over Rodimus’s head, making Springer’s chest rumble with laughter. “We’ll have to do something nice for you in a sec,” and then her head dips down as she bends to take one of Rodimus’s nipples in her mouth. 

Rodimus moans, trying to rock into the motion of Arcee’s hand that’s quickly warming in and against her cunt, shivering as the heat and wetness of Arcee’s mouth sends shocks from her nipples, feeling like there’s an electrical current bouncing between hand and mouth with Rodimus as the conduit. “Fuck, ‘Cee—" she whines as another finger works its way in beside its partner, and Rodimus tries to spread her legs, pushing down with her hips. 

Arcee releases her nipple with a lingering, wet kiss, leaving the skin shiny and red, and surges up to kiss her, fucking Rodimus on her hand with determined thrusts of her wrist. Rodimus moans into her mouth, trying to grab at her even as Springer keeps her caught between them. 

“You like that?” says Arcee without fully breaking away, breath hot against her skin, and Rodimus nods, feeling like her head’s about to explode with pressure, their lips and teeth clashing with the breathy noises that keep coming out instead of the words she wants to respond with. “Yeah? You want me to open you up with my fingers? Wanna come on my hand, you gonna finish like this? Not gonna let Springer have a go?”

Rodimus makes a choked noise, her legs jerking as she tries to yank her knees up at the pulse that shoots through her, unable to do it with Arcee pressed against her legs and torso like this. She feels like she’s going to break apart at the seams and she’s trying to toss about, trying to fuck herself harder on Arcee’s fingers. 

Arcee bites her mouth, still talking at her. “You gonna let Springer fuck you, Roddy? Gonna let me open you up and get you ready for him? Gonna let him fuck you up with that cock of his?”

Springer’s fingers are gripping her so tight she’s gonna have _bruises,_ and Rodimus can feel that cock of his hot and hard and heavy against her skin behind her. She whines, feeling too hot for her skin, like her eyeballs are too big for her skull and she can’t get enough breath in her lungs, tossing her head back, her eyes shutting without her permission. 

Arcee’s mouth lands on the junction of her jaw and neck, and she pushes a third finger into Rodimus without much ceremony, mouthing against the vibration from Rodimus’s throat when that produces a choked off noise. “Gonna open you up for his _cock,”_ she growls, “then let his cock open you up for my _hand—"_

Rodimus yells, heat flashing through her as she comes, arching up hard enough that she actually manages to buck them all through Springer’s grip on her, and she’s shaking, clenched tight around Arcee’s fingers with an uncontrollable flood of breathy noises, her head filled with TV static. 

She’s shaking a little as Springer cradles her, moaning in her ear even as she can feel him shifting restlessly, and she groans, boneless, as Arcee draws back a little to pull out and away. Arcee’s hand, wet with lube and Rodimus’s own contribution grips Rodimus’s waist, and her other one tugs her head down to kiss her more languidly, a thorough domination of Rodimus’s sated mouth, bringing her back down. “Good girl,” she murmurs as she leans back just enough to talk, chest to chest and skin to skin, making Rodimus whine. 

Rodimus shifts a little with the aftershocks, feeling them roll through her with satisfaction, and smiles, knowing it's a little lopsided. “Damn right,” she mutters hoarsely and wriggles a little, her head clearer, feeling a little more in control. “You gonna let Spring have a go at me now? Gonna let him fuck me up with his cock?”

Springer jerks against her with a curse and Arcee laughs, lifting her weight off Rodimus’ chest. She stands up and Rodimus stretches a little, Springer’s grip easing as he lets her sit up, sprawled loosely between his legs. “Goddamn,” she says, grinning, feeling warmed up, anticipatory, _ready to go,_ and she glances between them. “How is it whenever this happens I’m always the one who ends up naked first?”

“You always have to jump the gun, that’s why,” said Springer, his legs bumping hers as he shifts to tug his sleep pants off, ignoring the leers from Arcee and Rodimus. Arcee wipes her hand on her leggings and tosses Springer a condom. 

He fumbles it with a muttered curse, trying to kick his pants off at the same time. Rodimus laughs and leans over to grab the lube from the shitty, busted up stool she uses as a coffee table, feeling a warm throb deep in the seat of her hips at the sight of Springer pushing his cock forward into the condom, his fingers steadily unrolling it around his length in a practised motion that makes her mouth dry out a little—

She could _really_ go for a nice _dicking_ right about now—

Springer raises an eyebrow, looking at the lube in her hand. “You know these things already have lube on them, right?” he says, gesturing at his en-condomed dick. 

Rodimus sniffs, squeezing a generous amount onto her hand and rubbing her palms together to warm it up because she’s _nice,_ unlike Arcee. “Oh, you’re gonna treat me to a whole _teaspoon_ of shitty vaseline, huh, you big—”

He grabs her by the hips and drags her back into his lap, kissing her to cut her off before she can finish insulting him. His mouth is hungry and his hands are heavy and Rodimus makes a pleased noise directly into his mouth, flexing in his grip before reaching down to grab his dick where it’s resting hard and hot and _slimy_ against her thigh. 

Springer grunts into her mouth and twitches in her hands as she lubes him up nice and good the way she likes, and Rodimus rolls him around in her fingers, appreciating how he feels and the tensing of his thigh muscles as she squeezes him. Springer groans into her mouth and his fingers dig into her skin just over her hips, yanking her tight against him. 

Rodimus pants laughter against his lips before leaning her shoulders back and accepting a few more bite-y kisses. “You gonna just grind on me there, big guy, or you gonna give us enough space to actually get your cock in me?”

Springer grins at her, a little hard, a little mean, and he plants a hand on her chest, fondling her tit a little before pushing her. Rodimus makes a small noise and leans back further, her knees tightening around Springer’s waist before reluctantly letting go of Springer’s dick and letting him guide her all the way down, lying on her back on the couch, ass still propped up in his lap. 

Her hands are covered in lube. She wipes them off on her couch cover, sending a brief prayer of regret to the future version of herself that’ll have to pull the fucking thing off and then attempt to launder it. Arcee is gone again, probably rifling through Rodimus’s _things_ like she does, and then Springer is shoving her thighs apart and shoving _into_ her and she can’t focus on thinking about Arcee. 

She tries to buck into the feeling, small, eager noises spilling from her as she screws up her eyes and reaches for Springer’s hands, but his grip tightens on her hips, holding her still as he fucks into her. 

“Spring,” she growls, trying to buck her hips up as he bottoms out with a muttered curse. “Spring—lemme—fuck—”

Springer grins, all teeth as he leans over her, grinding into her in a way that makes her squirm and gasp, clutching at his hands with her frantic fingertips. “Oh, now you wanna hurry up?” he jokes, shifting up onto his knees, the shifting of his hands as he held her forcing her own hands to slide up his forearms. “Sure you don’t wanna take some more time to get your lube the way you want it? Don’t wanna be fussy?”

Rodimus can’t quite help herself. “There’s always time for lubricant!” she fires out, unable to help it and Springer sputters a laugh, bending his head down, his military short crop of hair bumping her chest and chin. 

“Fucking _hell,”_ he says like he can’t decide between humour and regret, and then he pulls out just enough for her to feel it, jostling her through a gasping laugh at her own dumb reference before he slams back in and just, fucks the thoughts right out of her head. 

Springer starts and he just _goes,_ setting up a brutal pace that has Roddy arcing up into his grip, feeling him release the tension she’s been winding up in him since Arcee had stuck her hand down her pants, and oh god, doesn’t she just _deserve_ this? Arcee had left her jittery and warm and Springer manages to take that and turn her all the way back up to hot and ready to go and trying to push herself back on his cock. 

Springer mouths at her chest, his breath coming out hot and ragged as his hips snap, and he groans, stretching himself out and pushing his arms up her body, dragging the touches all the way up with his arms pressed against her skin. Rodimus pushes up into it as best she can, stretching her head up to catch a messy kiss as his hands return to her chest like she’s got magnets there for him. 

He moans into her mouth, kneading at her as his hips keep rocking, less punishing at this angle but just as steady. _“Fuck,_ Roddy, you have such _nice_ tits,” he groans, pressing his thumb up against a nipple and rolling it around. 

“Thanks,” she says breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his head. “I grew them myself.”

He sputters a laugh again, their teeth clashing as he slows to wheeze a little, his thighs flexing against the back of hers, apparently unable to keep up the pace while laughing. There’s something warm and gooey inside Rodimus’ chest aside from the arousal and she tightens her grip around his head, kissing him hard. She clenches down to feel him inside her and his hips stutter forward, making him curse again. 

“Yeah bitch, work those Kegels,” says Arcee, making her presence known again and Rodimus cackles loudly in response. 

Springer pinches her tit, his wide grin undercutting the reproval in the action and even then Rodimus can’t quite bite back the eager moan, trying to lean up and kiss him again. 

Arcee leans over the arm of the couch behind Rodimus’s head and pins her shoulders down, grinning at Springer. “You done with her yet?”

Springer laughs, but it’s shaky, his muscles tensing where Rodimus can see, and his hips are stuttering in that jerky, desperate way she recognises. She clenches again, trying to press back against him, wanting him to hold out longer, fuck, she’s not close enough— “Greedy,” says Springer, his breath catching halfway through, and he’s grinning too wide, his teeth too far apart, gasping. “You already had her once.”

“Yeah,” says Arcee, and she leans down, kissing Rodimus from upside down, biting her lip and forcing them back, sliding her tongue over the roof of Rodimus’s mouth before pulling back again, leaving Rodimus gasping even as Springer grinds into her. “But I want her _again.”_

Springer grunts and pushes against the back of her thighs like he can get any deeper, his cock hot and pulsing against Rodimus’s clenching as he comes, and his eyes screw shut, the lines of his mouth easing with a beautifully soft noise. 

Rodimus whines, trying to fuck herself on the last pulses of him, unable to with how tight the two of them are holding onto her and she swears right up at Arcee’s face, getting a wide smile in response, her bubblegum pink fringe tickling Rodimus’s nose. “You’re awful,” she moans, making a face up at Arcee. 

She’s distracted by Springer laughing, her thighs jostling with sharp jolts of pleasure as he pulls out and she arches up into the sensation even as it leaves her frustratingly empty. “You’re still good,” he tells her, all goofy smiles and loose muscles as he kisses her knee and drapes it over his lap, leaning back against the couch. 

Rodimus kicks her heel down against the opposite arm of the couch, hitting his thigh with the fleshy part of her calf and pouting. “That’s sweet, but it’s not getting me _done,”_ she complains, feeling her arousal start to plateau and not wanting it to. 

They both laugh at her because her friends are _assholes_ especially when they work _together_ which is basically _always_ these days, and then Arcee is kicking the coffee table out of the way and dumping one of Rodimus’s cushions on the floor and Rodimus gets the feeling there’s going to be more laundry in her future goddamnit. It’s hard to keep the pout on her face though, especially when Arcee is dragging her down to the floor and Springer’s pushing her legs down, stretching out across her thoroughly soiled couch cover to watch them with a sated, appreciative expression. 

Arcee shoves at Rodimus’s inner thigh, getting her situated, and the rasp of latex against sensitive skin has Rodimus propping herself up on her elbows to grin at the sight of Arcee in one of the blue gloves from her sex drawer. And bless her, she remembered the lube without Rodimus having to remind her. 

...Though Rodimus probably doesn’t need it now, she’s practically _weeping_ the stuff, but if Arcee’s gonna follow through on what she said she will; more cannot possibly hurt. Anticipation coils sharply in her, making up for the interruption on the way to what will hopefully be her second orgasm of the morning, and she opens her mouth. 

Arcee puts her other hand on Rodimus’s stomach and presses down. It’s not in the right spot or with enough pressure to force her down, but she gets the message and leans back down onto the floor anyway. “Good girl,” praises Arcee, all sugar, and she pats Rodimus’s stomach. 

Rodimus jostles her with her knee. “I’m poking my tongue out at you,” she informs her living room ceiling, and huh, she should probably do something about the peeling plaster, no wonder Ultra Magnus keeps making—

Ice cold lube touches her cunt and Rodimus yelps, banging her knee into Arcee’s side. “Stop _doing_ that!”

“I promise I will buy you a special heater just for your goddamn lube if you stop bitching and let me get my fist in you,” said Arcee, pushing her thigh out and away to prevent more knee-ings and slipping three fingers straight into Rodimus without any kind of ceremony. 

They’re slippery and cold and not quite as good as Springer’s dick had been but Rodimus still squirms eagerly into the brisk pushing-and-dragging motions, her toes curling as Arcee gets right fucking to it. 

“It’s _cold_ though,” she complains, and Springer muffles a laugh into her couch cushions. 

Arcee shifts her fingers, spreading them out in a way that makes Rodimus sigh and push her thighs apart as wide as she can. Arcee’s lips and tongue slide up her labia next to the knuckles of her fingers where she’s pushed deep, and Rodimus whines at the warmth and softness, but then Arcee pulls back with a raspberry noise, her fingers pausing. 

“Your lube tastes like shit,” she says frankly, and Springer laughs loudly. 

Rodimus tries to knee her again, but Arcee’s grip is firm high on her thigh. “Now who’s being picky!” she protests. 

Arcee shuts her up by pushing her pinky finger in and twisting her hand so all her fingers line up vertically and Rodimus gasps, stilling at the feeling. It’s not quite _full_ full, and it’s stretching her out, but in a weird way and she makes a noise that’s almost wounded, whining as Arcee holds it before she weirdly pushes her fingers around, dragging more noises from Rodimus with every motion. 

She can feel her hips rocking with the motion, pressing into the cushion and arching back up again, and her eyes seem to have shut of their own accord because they flutter open when fingers touch hers. Springer’s fingers twist with hers and she grips them tightly, squeezing as Arcee stretches her fingers out again and her hips roll down in response, another broken noise eking out through her teeth digging into her lips. 

Springer’s eyes linger on her face for a moment, lazy and hot, and then he drags his gaze down her body to watch what Arcee’s doing to her. He laughs quietly, squeezing her hand as Arcee pushes the bulk of her hand into Rodimus slowly as she arches off the floor, her head clunking against her shitty rug. She can feel her feet kicking out somewhere behind Arcee, but all she can hear is her own breath panting in her ears, rasping in her throat. 

Arcee’s thumb is pressed up against her clit, just, reassuring pressure up above where Rodimus can feel it curve and become the base of her hand. Rodimus is panting and whining, her whole left leg twitching into the pulses of arousal and she can’t quite tell if she’s trying to pull away or push into the sensation. 

Springer’s rubbing his thumb in circles on her skin making soft noises at her as Arcee patiently waits for her to adjust to this part, kissing the junction of her thigh and groin softly. 

Rodimus takes a deep, shaky breath and stares up at her ceiling, licking the inside of her mouth and gripping Springer’s hand tightly. “Ready?” asks Arcee, kissing her thigh again. 

Rodimus nods, swallowing to summon up the ability to answer verbally. “Yeah,” she says, sounding too breathy, too high pitched. 

“Attagirl,” says Arcee, and then her hand is pulling back a little, her fingers stretching to slip her thumb in and Rodimus just tenses on automatic as she pushes her fingers into her, the pressure is so _much—_

“Relax,” chides Arcee, rubbing Rodimus’s leg gently, and Springer squeezes her hand tightly. “Relax, you can take this, I know you can.”

Rodimus huffs a laugh, trying to force herself to unclench enough to let Arcee in and not quite managing it, fine control of her muscles a little beyond her. “Easy for you to say,” she mutters, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 

She tightens her grip on Springer’s hand and tries again, tensing and releasing to make the motion easier and Arcee pushes in in one swift motion, Rodimus’s excess lube making it a slick slide despite the way it feels like fitting in there should be an impossibility. Springer might be a girthy boy, but he’s got _nothing_ on this—

Arcee cracks up with laughter making the hand inside Rodimus shift ever so slightly with the shaking of her arm and Rodimus doesn’t want to _know_ how much of that sentiment she just babbled out loud. She tilts her head to the side and forces her eyelids to obey her, blinking up at Springer who is laughing helplessly, his eyes scrunched up and making him look like he’s a teenager again when everything was—not easier, but not as hard. 

That warm feeling is back, right up against that burning arousal, and then Arcee rotates her wrist and there’s nothing _but_ the arousal left; she doesn’t have enough _room_ in her _head_ to hold anything else. Rodimus groans, her eyelids fluttering shut again and then Arcee flexes her fist and she _bucks_ in response, a strangled noise escaping her.

Arcee keeps going with small motions in her wrist and hand, fucking Rodimus with the impossible mass lodged in her and Rodimus realises at some point that she’s just spilling noise directly from her throat with no intervention from any other part of her especially not her brain. Springer’s laced their fingers together and he’s saying something she can’t quite parse because all she can feel is the movement inside her, there’s just so _much_ of it. 

She’s shaking in her shoulders, and Arcee’s pinning one of her thighs with her free elbow, her other knee bumping up against Arcee’s bicep and there’s a thready whining noise coming out every time Arcee twists or pushes or pulls and it all feels so good Rodimus is going to explode, she’s going to fall to pieces like the bolts that hold her legs on are being fucked loose by Arcee’s fist, she’s going to shatter like a lightbulb holding too much wattage—

Arcee’s tongue hits Rodimus’s skin where it’s stretched around her hand and it drags up like a line of wet fire on Rodimus’s skin until she finds her clit, Rodimus arching up to meet her with a strangled noise, her nails digging into the back of Springer’s hand. Arcee puts her whole mouth down and sucks hard, flicking her tongue against Rodimus’s clit as she pushes hard with her fist and Rodimus fucking _yelps_ as she comes, all of her muscles tensing and her face screwing up against the intensity of the feeling. 

She’s still shaking even as Arcee and Springer gentle her through the aftershocks with soft touches and quiet words she doesn’t really hear. Arcee’s fist stills until the muscles in Rodimus’s back untense and release, sagging into the cushion under her. She pulls it out slowly, Rodimus making small noises at each shift inside her, addled and loose and unable to move. 

Arcee leans over and kisses Rodimus’s pubic mound as her fingers slip out of her, pulling her head back with a grimace and rubbing her lips with her non-fisting hand. “Never understood shaving down there, I don’t want to look like I’m twelve,” she ribs, bouncing an eyebrow at Rodimus as she sits up. 

Rodimus doesn’t have the energy in her to kick her, even as lightly as she wants to. “I like it,” she mumbles indignantly instead. “S’aerodynamic.”

Springer leans down and pats her chest awkwardly. “S’okay, Roddy, I think it’s sexy.”

Arcee rolls her eyes as she stands up, peeling the glove off her hand and dropping it on top of Springer’s discarded condom, but she’s still smiling. “Yeah, but we’ve already established you don’t have any taste,” she jokes, leaning down to grab Rodimus’s hand, and no, she doesn’t wanna get up yet, okay? But she takes it, clasping Arcee’s wrist. “Come on then, let's get cleaned up.”

Springer grumbles and Arcee is still smiling, and Rodimus lets them pull her to unsteady feet so they can deal with the mess that’s sliding down her thigh, and she feels warm in the best possible way. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the most self indulgent piece of fanfiction I've ever written, and that is an _achievement_. I do actually have dumb fun worldbuilding around this, but also: I wrote it purely for porn. I hope if you read this far you enjoyed the longest single continuous sex scene I have ever written.


End file.
